


Serenity

by CelloPan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, domestic life, moving day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelloPan/pseuds/CelloPan
Summary: Day #1: Domesticity-----He’d given so much to volleyball but had never really realised until this day how much volleyball had given him. He had felt so alive, had seen so many courts, had met so many people. Now, these moments were all just memories, but the bonds he’d formed through them remained. And Atsumu found that it was enough.With volleyball, Atsumu had found a second family, he had found friends and mentors. And, above all, he had found the man who was quietly snoring in their bedroom at the moment, who shared his dreams and life. For that, he was forever grateful.-----Freshly retired and newly installed in their apartment, in a new city, Atsumu reflects on his life as a volleyball player, and what awaits him next in his life with Kiyoomi.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	Serenity

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> There is a short sex scene, not really explicit but in case you want to jump that part, it begins with 
> 
> "Kiyoomi smiled slowly back at him."
> 
> and ends at
> 
> "He came back, a wet towel in his hand, and began wiping Kiyoomi’s skin, kissing every cleaned patch of his skin left behind the towel’s movements."

As he walked through the living room into the bedroom, Atsumu realised that yes, maybe flip-flops and sunglasses weren't the best combination for navigating a cluttered, poorly lit flat, let alone when his view was blocked by two boxes stacked precariously in his arms. He huffed and went to put them down when the one on top slipped through his arms and crashed to the floor, loud and not-so-reassuring noises echoing through the apartment.

He stilled, waiting to see if Kiyoomi would appear with his ‘told you so’ face. He remembered the flat stare he had given him when seeing the pile of boxes he was trying to carry all at once. “Economy of energy, Omi!” he had said. The unimpressed look he had received as an answer was enough to know he’d better not break anything.

Estimating he was safe after a moment of silence, he put down the second box, straightened up and took a look around him. Drenched in sweat, surrounding by half-opened cardboard boxes and a bare bed frame, Atsumu brought his hands to his hips and let out a happy sigh.

Maybe they hadn’t chosen the best season to move in. The heavy summer heat had forced them to take several pauses along the day, preventing them to finish on time. But there was something in the air, something in the evening summer light, that made the apartment look particularly inviting. All in all, a perfect way to begin his new life.

Yesterday, Atsumu had bid farewell to volleyball for good. Although he had said his goodbye to his fans and to the volleyball world earlier this year during the season, his contract as a pro-volleyball player had only officially ended the day before. He had spent the last months dropping occasionally to practice with the MSBY team, giving final advices and tips to the new starting setter, and had finally retired and left Osaka.

Of course, he had known his career was ending, but until this day Atsumu had not entirely grasped the idea that he was not going to play anymore, and he felt somewhat weird. It was not the empty kind of weird he had initially expected, but more a feeling of ‘and now what?’ that had lived in is mind for the past twenty-four hours.

In fact, it was not a novelty at all; since Kiyoomi had retired, three years prior after an unforgettable season, they were looking for where and how to begin their new, post-volleyball life. Between Atsumu’s matches with the Jackals and Kiyoomi’s complementary classes in Osaka, their energy had been directed toward researching jobs and a city to re-establish themselves. They had decided they wanted to leave Osaka but stay in the proximity, finally settling here, both for its proximity to Atsumu’s family and the opportunities they had found there.

At the end of the summer, Atsumu would become the official coach of one of the local high schools, who had been delighted to receive an ex-Olympian in their ranks, and the people working at the municipal archives would welcome Kiyoomi.

Atsumu could not completely shake out this weird feeling of being surprisingly calm and excited at the same time. For what? He couldn’t really decide.

Light steps interrupted his reflections.

“What got you all so dreamy?”

He turned around to see Kiyoomi standing at the entrance of the room, his hair wrapped with a Hello Kitty band in an attempted bun. It was longer than it had ever been during his time in the MSBY, Kiyoomi having decided to let it grow after his retirement.

He looked tired after a whole day of cleaning and carrying boxes upstairs.

“Omi” he said in a smile, “it’s our apartment.”

“Well, I sure hope so,” he said sarcastically, but the little turn of his lips betrayed his own joy. “That’s not our first, though? What’s so special about this one?”

Atsumu tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes, smiling to the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I like it here,” a breath, “I like you here”

He heard Kiyoomi snorting, mumbling something that suspiciously sounded like ‘what a sap’ before he carried out the boxes in his arms in the adjacent room.

Atsumu chuckled. Fifteen years of being his teammate and ten of being his partner had taught Atsumu the meaning of the little smile tugging at Kiyoomi’s lips; he also liked it here. After all, he was the one who searched and visited apartments the past year to find the perfect place for their new life. And when Kiyoomi was looking for perfection, he had high standards; he had truly found the best place possible.

The apartment in itself was not particularly spacious, but they were not looking for a palace. It was spacious enough for two grown-ups and their cat. Atsumu was particularly excited about the little balcony situated in the living room. While not particularly spectacular, it had a view on the small street that bordered their building and Atsumu could not wait to have quiet breakfasts and romantic dinners there. That was, of course, if the jungle Kiyoomi was planning to install on the balcony did not end up taking all the space.

Kiyoomi’s voice broke through the wall, bringing him back to reality.

“Come on, put your things in order so we have a chance to eat before midnight”

Right, they still had to do that before any cute date nights. Atsumu opened one of the boxes he brought earlier.

He rummaged through the content of the first one, trying to find the items that had been on the desk. He took out two framed photos, one of the whole team the first time they made it to the national team, the second a photo of the two of them at Kita’s farm, a few years ago. After a short consideration, Atsumu placed them on the bedside table. The rest of the boxes contained some clothing and various posters.

He searched again, and searched the other boxes, but couldn’t seem to find his plant nor the little yellow lamp they used to light up the room before going to bed. They had carefully packed everything, but their old apartment had so quickly been filled with bags and boxes of things to throw away or donate that a mistake was not impossible.

He sighed. Sure, the plant was about to die and the lamp did not light anything, but Atsumu was attached.

“How about we do all that tomorrow, mh? ‘m bored and tired Omi”

Only silence answered him.

“Let’s take a bath after eating, what do ya say? Just relaxin’ and maybe sexy time?”

They did not even have to cook; Osamu, who felt bad for being stuck at the restaurant, had brought them a bag with some supplies for the night. Atsumu should eventually double-thank him, the arrival of his brother, a sleeping baby strapped to his chest, had also saved him from Kiyoomi’s wrath when he had discovered that Atsumu had maybe inadvertently thrown away his (absolutely horrible) curtains.

He heard Kiyoomi sigh.

“Tsumu.”

“What? Come on, don’t tell me yer having the time of yer life right now. We still have the whole week for that.”

“Maybe I’d prefer to do something else than unpacking for a whole week?”

“Omi,” he whined, for lack of a better argument.

“You better be unpacking as we talk,” Kiyoomi warned, and after a beat of silence, he added “or else no sexy time at all. Five boxes and we eat, non-negotiable”

Atsumu grunted his agreement.

Three boxes and a half later, Atsumu decided he’d had enough and dropped everything he was doing to join Kiyoomi in the living room. He was sitting cross-legged besides the shelf and seemed very much occupied with placing on the different levels the atrocious collections of wooden knick-knacks he had begun collecting a few years ago.

“Wish I’d burnt them when it was still time,” he said, crossing the room to sit beside Kiyoomi, who paid him no mind and continued placing meticulously each item to its original place, following the plan he had drawn to ensure that “the harmony of the shelf was preserved.” If anyone was to ask Atsumu, the harmony had been lost a long time ago.

“’m bored and hungry now.” He said, taking one of the items on the upper level in his hand. Kiyoomi glanced at him sideways but did not react.

“Take responsibility, ‘m gonna pass out and die if I don’t eat now.” He put back the item on the lower level.

Immediately, Kiyoomi placed it back in its original place. “Well, there are onigiris your brother brought, help yourself.”

Atsumu moved the item down one level. “Yeah, it doesn’t solve the ‘’m bored’ part. I don’t wanna eat alone, Omi.”

With a loud noise, Kiyoomi slapped back the item—a sort of dancing monkey, now that Atsumu was paying more attention—in place. “Not. My. Problem.” He said through gritted teeth. “How many boxes did you do?”

“All five of’ them.” He lied proudly. He moved to take the monkey but Kiyoomi slapped his hand.

“Stop that! Let him be.” Atsumu snorted. “And you’re lying. You did two at best, I know you.”

Atsumu made an offended noise. “Hey, I did three and a half ok? Come on, let’s go eatin’. Non-negotiable.”

With that, he stood up and offered his hand to Kiyoomi, who rolled his eyes but took it while a soft smile bloomed on his face.

“If I hear one complain tomorrow because we have a lot to unpack, I’m moving out.”

Atsumu chuckled and guided them through the corridor.

The kitchen still filled with unopened bags and the table left untouched in one of the many cardboard boxes pushed in the corner of the room, they sat on the balcony, onigiris and a bottle of sake sitting between them.

Happily munching on a tuna onigiri, Atsumu realised how hungry and tired he was. They had moved all day, finally leaving behind their apartement in Osaka in the middle of the day, and they had arrived quite late to their new place.

He looked at Kiyoomi over his glass of sake. He also looked tired, exhaustion visible in the bow of his head and his occasional yawns. But sitting there, eyes gazing absently at the city stretching below them, satisfaction written all over his face, Kiyoomi mostly looked happy. Atsumu felt his lips stretching into a smile.

He was about to break the comfortable silence when a small yelp startled them both, their heads turning towards the living room.

Their small kitten was looking back at them, expectantly. Count on them for adopting a cat three days before moving out. But the truth is, when Atsumu had seen Kiyoomi’s eyes soften like never before when looking at the cat in the adopting centre, his common sense had melted away with his heart and they had gone back to their apartment arms full of kitten furniture.

Atsumu had almost forgotten the little animal was there with them, too occupied with unloading everything. The kitten had stayed hidden in the bathroom for a large part of the day and had finally decided to join them.

“Well hello there kiddo, feelin’ better already?” Almost as an answer, the cat meowed and licked his paw.

“The cat has a name,” Kiyoomi huffed, “please stop referring to him as kiddo.”

Indeed, the cat had a name. A name Kiyoomi chose.

“I’m definitely not callin’ him Kirin.” Seriously, what was it with Kiyoomi and his weird sense of naming thing? “’m not gonna explain why my _cat_ ’s name’s _giraffe._ ”

As if to taunt him, the kitten perked up and made a small, cute sound in his direction.

“See?” Kiyoomi grinned smugly at him before extending his hand to pet the cat. “He likes it.”

To prove his point, the kitten snuggled in Kiyoomi’s hand, purring loudly.

They made a cute picture, Kiyoomi stretched out sideways through the door frame, soft smile on his lips, the kitten’s head cradled in his hand, and Atsumu regretted leaving his phone in the kitchen.

His earlier thoughts came back to his mind.

_I have all the time in the world to take another one._

Closing his eyes, Atsumu let his head fall back on the glass door behind him. The weird but comfortable feeling was back, and he allowed himself to drown in it, evening sunlight wrapping him up comfortably.

“So, what are the plans for the week?” Kiyoomi’s voice was soft, barely louder than a murmur.

“Explore the city? Ya know, get familiar and all. ‘Heard there’s a nice park somewhere. Visit my mom at some point.” He shifted to look at Kiyoomi. “Have any idea in particular?”

“We should buy bikes.”

Since Komori and he had insisted that Kiyoomi learned how to ride a bike last summer, he had been so obsessed with going everywhere biking that Atsumu wondered how he had never thought of it before.

He got up to clean the rest of their dinner, letting Kiyoomi coo at his kitten to his heart content.

When he came back, the cat was on Kiyoomi’s lap, dozing off under the caresses. They looked so comfortable that Atsumu was almost jealous. He walked up to them and sat beside Kiyoomi, snaking an arm between his body and the glass door to wrap around his waist. Result of years of cuddling, Kiyoomi’s head fell naturally on his shoulder, his face half slotted in his neck.

They stayed like that for a moment, watching the night silently fall on the city. Neither talking, as if afraid of breaking some kind of charm.

Early in their relationship, Atsumu had understood that silence was not the terrible thing he had always imagined it to be, quite the contrary. Osamu often joked that he wasn’t able to shut up and, well, he was partly right. It had always been how Atsumu translated his feelings, his ideas: loudly. With Kiyoomi, he had learned the many different ways of showing his affection, of sharing his thoughts.

Throughout the years, they had developed gestures, words, touches, to tell the other their love. And Atsumu had realised, they were never really silent. Even at this moment, Atsumu’s fingers drawing circles on warm skin under a shirt, Kiyoomi’s soft lips dropping light kisses just under his ear, the happy, quiet sighs they let escape occasionally. This spoke of the feelings only they could understand.

Atsumu had become used to these shows of affection, silent only in appearance.

“You stink,” Kiyoomi whispered.

Maybe they should stick to silent affection.

Atsumu snorted. “Omi, we were having a moment.”

“My nose was having a different moment.”

He was about to retort when he felt Kiyoomi stifling a yawn in the crook of his neck. Atsumu realised how tire they both were. Since they had to get up early tomorrow, he moved to get up.

“Okay Don Juan, let’s continue this serenade in the shower.”

After a cold shower that momentarily chased the heat from their bodies, they collapsed on their bed, exhausted. They had only put a thin sheet over the mattress, not even bothering to take the blanket out of the bag.

They made themselves comfortable, Kiyoomi’s warm hand on his naked stomach the only point of contact between them. Atsumu had discarded all his clothes, keeping only his boxer. As usual, Kiyoomi slept with only his ‘I love Osaka’ shirt on. The shirt had been a gift from Inunaki when Kiyoomi had left the MSBY, and even though he had cringed when receiving it, he always wore it as a pyjama.

He turned his head to look at Kiyoomi, who was visibly fighting sleep to keep his eyes slightly open. He was on his stomach, his face smudged against his pillow giving to his smile a funny form.

“I’m happy you like it here,” he murmured quietly. He almost seemed unsure.

Atsumu smiled. “Don’t see any reason why not.” He moved his head a bit to touch his forehead to Kiyoomi’s. He hesitated before adding, “Plus, yer here, ain’t ya?”

Atsumu felt his cheeks blushing at his words and, even without seeing them, he knew the colour on Kiyoomi’s cheeks mirrored his owns. Fifteen years of banters, jokes, and love words had never really chased away their shyness when it came to voicing their emotions loud and clear. They’d become better at reading each other, sure. _Really_ better—some incidents are best left in the past. But at time they felt the need to put these emotions into words.

It was always in these moments, protected by the darkness and the intimacy of their bed, that they both allowed themselves to be truly vulnerable and transparent about their feelings and thoughts.

He opened his eyes, only to find Kiyoomi had closed his. He dropped a kiss on the twin moles on his forehead and drifted to sleep.

When Atsumu was woken up by the blinding sunlight, sweating under the warm sun rays entering the room through the window, he almost came to regret Kiyoomi’s ugly curtains. Almost.

He passed a hand on his face, rubbing the sleep away. He was on his stomach, and when he moved to lay on his side, he had to peel his skin away from the sheet., soaked from his sweat. Curtains were definitely on today’s shopping list.

Kiyoomi was still asleep, lips parted on a soft breath, his hair stuck to his forehead. The sheet completely discarded, he was naked from the waist, where his t-shirt was pooled up. The morning light made his damp skin almost shine. He was beautiful.

Drinking in the sight, Atsumu couldn’t help moving his hand to follow the lines of Kiyoomi’s body with a finger. The sharp angles that were so characteristic of the younger Kiyoomi had melted away. Despite his weekly visits at the gym and his occasional morning jogs, three years of not being a pro-athlete anymore had softened Kiyoomi’s forms.

He let his hand wander on damp skin, tracing a path, invisible to all but him, of Kiyoomi’s favourite spots. His eyes slowly trailed back up, where he found Kiyoomi looking back at him with half-open eyes.

His head propped up on one elbow, Atsumu smiled down at Kiyoomi.

“G’mornin, Omi. Slept well?”

Kiyoomi smiled slowly back at him.

“Sex?” he demanded in his soft morning voice.

Atsumu snorted. Morning sex was not unusual, nor Kiyoomi demanding it, but he generally put a little more effort into making conversation before. “Damn, what a charmer. So much for setting a mood.”

Kiyoomi’s brows furrowed. He made a small groan, burying his head in Atsumu’s chest. “Hi, hope you slept well, you look beautiful and I want you. Sex?” He mumbled against his skin.

Atsumu laughed and combed a hand through black curls, pressing his lips here and there.

When Kiyoomi lifted his face, eyes still closed, his hand slid to take a hold of his jaw. “Much better” Atsumu murmured before kissing him. Kiyoomi let out a small sigh while one of his hand drew circles on his hip.

With his kiss, Atsumu gently pushed back so the other was now lying on his back. Kiyoomi’s hand moved to play with the small hair of his undercut.

His lips that had momentarily left Kiyoomi’s to place kisses under his jaw trailed back to his mouth. A swipe on his lips opened Kiyoomi’s mouth wider and he slipped his tongue in. Atsumu’s left hand slowly moved down. Kiyoomi’s skin was hot to the touch, burning both from the increasingly warm sunlight and his own excitation.

Stroking the soft skin on his inner thighs, Atsumu detached himself from Kiyoomi’s lips to bite lightly at the skin of his throat, eliciting a low moan from Kiyoomi. The latter’s arm was now wrapped around his back, hand gripping Atsumu’s shoulder.

Atsumu felt his own desire rising with every small sound and barely comprehensible murmurs of his name coming out of Kiyoomi’s throat

He finally got his hand on Kiyoomi’s dick, his action gritted by a small gasp. He began stroking him lazily, his nose pushing below Kiyoomi’s jaw.

He planted kisses along his throat and chest and was about to continue lower when the hand Kiyoomi had on his back gripped him tighter.

“’Tsumu,” he heard him call urgently. The hand was now pushing him back up. “’Tsumu, stay here.”

Dark eyes filled with love and lust were looking intensely at him.

“Yeah, ‘m here, Omi” Atsumu said in a breath, before meeting Kiyoomi’s lips again, more forcefully than before.

The room was getting hotter, small moans barely covering the morning noises coming through the window. He kept his pace unhurried; they had all the time in the world and Atsumu was certainly going to enjoy it. He straightened up a bit to gaze at the man under him, pleasure written all over his face. Not for the first time, Atsumu realised how lucky he was that this vision had become his every day.

He pressed his face back in the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck, tightening his grip on him. Kiyoomi arched up in his touch, small moans now escaping him without stopping.

After a few more strokes and bites on his neck, Atsumu sensed Kiyoomi’s climax building up.

Hooded eyes fixed on Atsumu’s and his mouth parted on a silent cry, Kiyoomi finally came.

Accompanying him as he came down, Atsumu placed open-mouthed kisses on his skin before extracting himself from Kiyoomi’s embrace and leaving the room, eliciting a small whine from him.

He came back, a wet towel in his hand, and began wiping Kiyoomi’s skin, kissing every cleaned patch of his skin left behind the towel’s movements.

When he looked back up, Kiyoomi’s eyes were closed. He moved to get out of bed.

“What about you?” Kiyoomi mumbled sleepily.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, Omi, ‘m good. Jus’ relax and go back to sleep.”

With that, he placed a final kiss on Kiyoomi’s stomach before exited the room in direction of the bathroom.

A well-deserved refreshing shower later, Atsumu stepped outside on the balcony. Leaning against the railing, he quietly sipped his coffee as the street below slowly came to life. Sixty kilometres away, in another city, his ex-teammates should already be in the middle of their morning practice, and Atsumu couldn’t find it in his heart to be envious.

There was no denying that he was already missing this. For almost twenty years, he had lived the dreams he’d promised himself he would make come true as a young boy. Waking up at the wee hours of the morning to train with the most talented volleyball players of his generation all day had been such an incredible opportunity; he could certainly never forget it. More than half of his life had revolved around volleyball, getting stronger, always pushing his limits. Winning, losing, winning again. This had been his routine, this had been him for so long, he had feared that without it he’d be empty, lost.

‘Journey matters more than the destination’ Kita always said. Atsumu had reached his destination a few years ago, when he was standing on top of the world, surrounded by all his teammates, gold around his neck and Kiyoomi’s lips on his. But looking back, maybe Kita had a point: his journey had surely been important.

He’d given so much to volleyball but had never really realised until this day how much volleyball had given him. He had felt so alive, had seen so many courts, had met so many people. Now, these moments were all just memories, but the bonds he’d formed through them remained. And Atsumu found that it was enough.

With volleyball, Atsumu had found a second family, he had found friends and mentors. And, above all, he had found the man who was quietly snoring in their bedroom at the moment, who shared his dreams and life. For that, he was forever grateful.

While showering, Atsumu had had a realisation. Moments like they shared this morning were not rare in themselves, but generally came with the off-season or any kind of vacation they used to have. They had always succeeded in finding time for each other, that never had been a problem, but volleyball had always been present in their life, and they often found themselves dividing their time between volleyball and each other. At the time, both were satisfied with it, sharing the same passion for the game, and they had never felt like they were missing out. Now that volleyball was not their everything, however, Atsumu revelled in this newly found feeling of having all the time in the world to enjoy Kiyoomi and only Kiyoomi.

It was not like they were absolutely free either, they would have to go back to work in a couple of weeks. But his whole attention was now devoted to Kiyoomi, and he knew the reverse was also true.

He smiled in his cup, sun warming his face.

The sound of his phone startled him, and he was surprised when he realised he’d been on his balcony for an hour now. The message was from his mom, and there was another from Osamu. He was about to call his brother when he heard someone knocking at their door.

He left his cup on the counter and went to open the door, where he came face to face with a small old lady who was smiling up at him. In her hand was a container covered with aluminium foil.

The woman introduced herself as their next-door neighbour and explained she had come to give them some dessert she’d made as a way to welcome them.

She smiled again as she studied his face.

“Have we met before? Your face seems very familiar.”

Atsumu laughed. “I don’t think so, it’s my first time in Miki.”

The noise of a door closing and the shower running behind him told Atsumu that Kiyoomi had finally woken up.

“Well, I’ll leave you two make yourself comfortable, if you need anything, just knock at our door, my husband and I will be happy to help you,” she said in a small bow.

Atsumu bowed and thanked her.

He walked to the kitchen and set to prepare a small breakfast before going back to unpack. They still had a lot of work to do.

He heard light footsteps coming closer. He turned around and was greeted with the vision that was a grumpy Kiyoomi, curls dripping on an oversize shirt, their kitten pressed to his chest.

“Omi, yer radiant!”

He received only a groan in response. Which was habitual, Kiyoomi only communicating in grunts and groans for the first forty minutes after waking up, intelligible sentences only formed after one hour.

He chuckled to himself and went to prepare coffee. He felt Kiyoomi approaching and snuggling behind him, his face pressed against his nape. He slipped a hand around Atsumu’s stomach. Kiyoomi mumbled something that mildly sounded like a ‘good morning’, the movement of his lips tickling Atsumu.

Their breakfast ready, they sat down at the table Atsumu had installed earlier in the morning. Kiyoomi put the kitten on the table, besides his plate.

“Omi, I love ya, but this is no place fer a cat, put him down,” he warned. Kiyoomi looked back at him, his mouth turned into a small pout. He angled the kitten, so that his face was turned toward Atsumu, too, and made his cutest pleading eyes.

The cat stayed on the table.

They unpacked for the best part of the day, their apartment slowly taking form. Only the guestroom was lacking a bed, one they would have to go and buy in a few days. When almost everything had been reassembled, cleaned up, and put in the closets, they decided to go out for a walk and some grocery shopping.

“Which one should I put?” Kiyoomi asked behind him, as Atsumu was changing out from his soaked clothes.

In his hands were two pretty identical dresses. “The navy blue one or the liquorice one?”

If it was true that Kiyoomi and he shared a common preoccupation regarding their appearance, no matter if they were going out only for shopping, Kiyoomi had a particular sense of ‘dressing up’.

Atsumu’s gaze shifted between the two dresses, desperately trying to find the profound difference between liquorice black and navy blue. “Uh, dunno, the blue?” he tried.

It must have been the good fashion choice, if Kiyoomi nodding his head in approval was any indication.

They grabbed bags and water on their way out, Kiyoomi kissing the top of the cat’s head before walking out.

“This cat is stealin’ ya from me Omi, I swear, ya gave him more kisses in one morning than ya gave me in a whole week!” Atsumu joked as he closed their door.

Kiyoomi snorted. “Maybe he deserved them more than you,” he said, taking Atsumu’s hand in his before walking to the staircase. Under his sunglasses, Atsumu’s eyes filled with fondness.

Their first stop was the little konbini around the corner, where they bought a snack for the walk.

They continued their exploration, Atsumu sighing contently at every sip of his iced tea and Kiyoomi munching on a lollipop.

Hand in hand, they walked around the city aimlessly, Atsumu talking, Kiyoomi listening. They wandered through the small streets that passed through their neighbourhood. Although the afternoon was already well underway, they were a lot of people in the streets, discussing together as their children played around them. Atsumu wondered if he would see any of these faces in his gymnasium in September.

The grocery store was almost empty when they arrived. Instinctively, they went their separate ways, years of joint grocery shopping as a reference: Atsumu was in charge of fresh products and everything that needed any direct manipulation while Kiyoomi looked for the rest.

Atsumu was on his way to find Kiyoomi when he heard someone asked loudly:

“Hey! I know you! Who are you??”

He turned around to see Kiyoomi, an annoyed expression on his face, looking down at a small kid. The boy was gazing expectantly at him. Kiyoomi shifted his weight from side to side.

His embarrassment and confusion visibly growing, Atsumu decided to step in.

“Heya, Omi-Omi, makin’ new friends already?”

Kiyoomi’s sharp glare was not the recognition Atsumu was waiting for.

“Ya could have invited me to the party,” he finished, beaming at him.

The child’s loud gasp made Atsumu’s head turn around in his direction. The child was looking back at him, stupor all over his face.

“Oh my god, you’re- you’re Miya Atsumu? Like, the Miya Atsumu?!” Then realisation dawned on him. “So that must mean…” he said as he turned back toward Kiyoomi, “that you’re… Miya Atsumu’s spiker?? I knew I recognised your face!”

Time seemed to freeze; the silence only broken by the sound Kiyoomi’s lollipop made when he crushed it under his teeth.

Then, Atsumu burst out laughing, doubling over, and even the murderous glare he received from ‘his spiker’ couldn’t stop him.

With a huff, Kiyoomi turned around and occupied himself with glaring at the shelf of oil and vinegar.

“Yeah, kid, this is indeed my spiker, Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he said, trying to control his laugh Oh, there was no way he was going to let that die down. In fact, he should text his friends as soon as possible.

“Are you here for a holiday or something?” The kid asked.

“Nope, here to stay. We live here now, so we’re like neighbours,” Atsumu said with a wink.

The child seemed confused by that.

“So… you’re not playing volleyball anymore?”

“Well, Omi and I, we felt a bit tired ya see.” Somewhere behind his shoulder, he heard Kiyoomi saying ‘so we _re_ tired’, followed by small snorts. He decided to ignore that part.

The child seemed perplexed, but his expression changed quickly. “I’m gonna play next year! In my school’s team. I’ll be the best setter, and one day I’ll beat you both, you and Kageyama!”

Atsumu ruffled his hair, chuckling. “That’s the spirit kid.”

As the kid returned to his parents, Atsumu searched for Kiyoomi. He found him looking intensely at the boxes of cereals in front of him.

“They’re not gonna jump in your basket on their own free will, Omi, ya hafta make a choice.”

“I don’t talk to traitors” was Kiyoomi’s response. And with a disdainful shake of his head, he marched up to the end of the alley.

Atsumu rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the snicker that slipped through his lips.

He was examining two different sets of linen napkins, trying to choose which one was the most in harmony with his kitchen, when Kiyoomi appeared at his side.

“I can’t believe he didn’t know my name,” Kiyoomi groaned grumpily.

“Jealous, Omi? Want yer own fan club?”

“I don’t want a fan club, but I was hoping that winning gold at the Olympics would make people know me as something else than ‘Miya Atsumu’s spike’” he said, mimicking the child’s voice.

Atsumu cackled. “Omi-Omi, yer so totally jealous. Don’t worry, I’ll always be yer number one fan.”

Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes.

Shoving them under his nose, Atsumu asked Kiyoomi about the napkins. “What do ya think? Green or orange?”

“Both are ugly”

“I don’t care, which one?”

He shrugged. “Whatever.” And walked away.

Atsumu threw the green ones in his basket and headed for the cash registers.

Kiyoomi suddenly reappeared behind him. “Which one did you choose in the end?”

“The green ones.”

Kiyoomi’s face visibly scrunched up. “Ah.”

Atsumu snorted and handed the pack to Kiyoomi. “Go fetch the orange ones. Make it quick, don’t wanna look stupid in front of the cashier while I hafta wait fer ya.”

At his words, Kiyoomi spun around quickly in direction of the tableware aisle.

He came back as the cashier was scanning their purchases, green napkins still in his hands.

He shrugged at Atsumu’s questioning face. “Finally, I like them better green.”

Atsumu eyed him suspiciously. “No ya don’t.” Kiyoomi turned his head away, not before Atsumu had the time to see his cheeks coloured slightly. He snickered. ”Ya didn’t find them, right?”

Kiyoomi clicked his tongue in exasperation. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said, taking a hold of two bags.

As soon as he stepped out of the store, Atsumu was overwhelmed by the heat. His eyes searched around, looking for Kiyoomi. He finally located him, standing a few meters away.

Kiyoomi was leaning against a wall, long legs joined at the ankle. His reading glasses sitting on his nose, he was looking with concentration at his phone. In the sunlight, Atsumu could now clearly see the blue of Kiyoomi’s dress. The gentle breeze was moving his curls around, revealing here and their patches of white hair.

Here, under the afternoon light, Atsumu realised that Kiyoomi’s changes were not just physical. In fact, it was not really a change, in itself. It was just that Kiyoomi seemed... more relaxed, peaceful even. The tension Atsumu had become used to see on his shoulder had seemingly lifted, and his expression had been less and less guarded as time passed. He looked a bit more careless, smiling more freely, as attested by the smile lines on his face.

As if feeling his gaze, Kiyoomi raised his head and smiled softly at him.

His blue dress and dark curls a vibrant contrast to the summer light shining around him, Kiyoomi was truly handsome. Atsumu quickly snapped a picture, shrugging sheepishly as Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow at him, grinning.

“C’me on, let’s go back,” he said taking a hold of his wrist.

Kiyoomi nodded, slipping his arm in his hold, to slot their hands together, and guided them back home.

Since Osamu had taught him, Atsumu had always like cooking, even more when he had to cook for others. He’d become quite skilled with the years, secretly impressing Osamu—at least he liked to believe—and efforts and recipes had gradually turned into habits, his hands moving around on their own.

At least he thought.

He found that concentration was still very much needed when a certain someone was sitting right beside him. In their old kitchen, Kiyoomi used to sit on the counter while Atsumu cooked them dinner, but it proved impossible in their new one.

Instead, Kiyoomi had pulled up a chair to sit close to him as Atsumu was stirring the ingredients in the pan. Face flattened in the hollow of his waist, Kiyoomi was drawing small circle behind Atsumu’s knees, occasionally letting out quiet, happy sounds. The rhythm set by Kiyoomi’s breaths and hands on his skin was distracting, making him feel warm all over. All he wanted was to leave whatever he was doing to envelop Kiyoomi in a tight embrace.

He felt more than heard the groan Kiyoomi let out. “I’m hungry,” he whined to Atsumu’s waist, punctuating his phrase with small pecks, “how long before we eat?”

Atsumu smiled, fondly. “Be patient, ya big baby, it’s almost ready. Here, gimme the salt.”

Without moving his face, Kiyoomi weakly extended his arm in whatever direction he guessed the salt was, but his hand only finding empty space.

He groaned. “No salt tonight,” he concluded, sliding his hand back on the other side of Atsumu’s thigh.

Atsumu chuckled. Fatigue and hunger always had this effect on Kiyoomi. As much as he was grumpy in the morning, it all but melted away during the day, leaving him clingy and constantly seeking physical contact.

To Atsumu’s delight.

They ate on the balcony again, the warmth of the stones keeping them comfortable. Their conversation only interrupted when taking a bite of their food, they made clear plans for the rest of the week.

The wine they had opened as a sort of small celebration was tinting Kiyoomi’s cheeks with slight shades of red that the gold of his glasses' frame only accentuated.

The small smile on his lips and the occasional giggle that escaped his mouth signs that Kiyoomi was tipsy; Atsumu found the vision intoxicating.

Kiyoomi got up, glass of red wine still in his hand, and disappeared inside the apartment, looking for something in the last boxes still unpacked in the living room. Moments later, Atsumu heard soft music coming out of the kitchen.

He recognised the disc Shouyou had gifted them one day as he was visiting from Brazil.

Steady rhythms slowly filled the apartment, the deep singer’s voice reverberating on the walls around them.

Atsumu shifted as Kiyoomi came back, his other hand now occupied by the kitten. A soft smile was stretching his lips as he began to slowly follow the cadence, moving along with the music.

The cat, pressed against Kiyoomi’s chest didn’t seem particularly happy but made no move to get away. Kiyoomi’s other arm was extended as if he was holding someone, fingers gently closed on his glass. He had closed his eyes, slowly spinning around the room.

The evening light was shining directly on the living room, illuminating Kiyoomi. The dress he wore was loose, but Atsumu could discern Kiyoomi’s hips moving under the fabric, balancing along with the music. He was swaying around the room, sunset dancing on his skin, only slowing to take a sip of his wine, always keeping his eyes closed.

The air was still warm, and Atsumu felt entranced, drinking in the sight. His eyes were riveted to Kiyoomi, fingers tapping rhythmically, following the music. Even from where he was sitting, Atsumu could see the softness of Kiyoomi’s curls moving around his face and the sweetness of his glistening skin.

The air around them smelled like summer.

Kiyoomi was now dancing to a tune only he seemed to hear, smile never leaving his face. He was gorgeous.

It dawned on Atsumu that, although he had been in love with Kiyoomi for more than a decade, he had maybe never loved him as much as he did today.

_This place, this man. This. I want this, forever._

Sitting there, cross-legged on his balcony with his chin propped up on his hand, glass of wine in his other hand, Atsumu fell in love all over again. He felt like he could never get tired of it.

As if sensing Atsumu’s thinking, Kiyoomi opened his eyes to look at him, still dancing. His cheeks were now completely flushed, and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He grinned at him, panting.

“Are you waiting for me to collapse from exhaustion to come here or what?”

As if on cue, the kitten wriggled in his hand, trying to break free.

“Well, Omi, it seems yer short of a dance partner.”

Kiyoomi didn’t answer but he beckoned him closer.

Atsumu gladly complied. Taking a hold of Kiyoomi waist, he let him guide them across the room, pecking the exposed skin on Kiyoomi’s collarbone.

They danced and kissed slowly throughout the whole the disc, swaying clumsily together and laughing at each other, only coming to a stop with the last note.

In the shower, they took their time as they gently washed each other, exchanging tender movements and sweet words.

It was only once they were in bed, enveloped in the safe darkness of their bedroom, that Atsumu finally voiced his thoughts.

“Hey Omi”

A nod against his chest encouraged him to continue.

“Is it weird that I’m not feeling as upset as I expected?”

At that, Kiyoomi raised his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was a bit- I dunno, scared? Of how I would react. Ya know, after quittin’ volleyball.” He combed a hand through Kiyoomi’s hair. “But I just feel good. I mean, I don’t feel empty.”

His eyes trailed back to Kiyoomi’s face. “I feel…” 

He hesitated. There didn't seem to be a word that could describe exactly the warmth he felt radiating through his body since two days now, appeasing yet thrilling.

“Serene?” offered Kiyoomi, looking up at him. 

Atsumu nodded slowly, eyes closing; of course Kiyoomi would have one for it. “Yeah,” he said in a breath, “serene.”

After a short moment of silence, he heard Kiyoomi hummed.

“Yeah, I was a bit scared too.”

“Of feelin’ empty?”

Kiyoomi shook his head. “Of you feeling empty.” He shifted, now lying on his back, his head resting on Atsumu’s chest. “After all, you had only ever known volleyball”.

While Kiyoomi had been a bit disoriented the first days after the end of his contract, he had quickly adapted to his new life. According to him, it was the years as a uni student that had helped him settle so quickly.

With Kiyoomi’s confession, Atsumu realised all the efforts he had made to be sure Atsumu would not feel too disoriented himself. He had looked for a place, had agreed to move close to Atsumu’s family, had gradually accompanied him in finding a job for after.

Atsumu felt sick with love for the man in his arms.

He tightened his grip on him.

“Nah, don’t worry yer pretty head fer me any longer, Omi. I’m good. Real good.”

“I’m glad,” Kiyoomi said, and Atsumu could hear the smile in his voice.

Then, as they were falling asleep, Atsumu made his second confession.

“By the way, I kinda did throw yer curtains away. I’m sorry, they were just too ugly, I’ll buy ya some new, less ugly ones, promise.”

Kiyoomi lightly slapped his chest, chuckling.

“You’re an idiot. It’s okay, they were a bit old.”

“What do ya mean a bit old? Even my grandfather would refuse to hang them.” He added, after a beat of silence, “Ya seem awfully ok with this.”

Kiyoomi cleared his throat. “I, uh. I might have thrown away the zombie you called a plant”

“What?? It was you! You killed Janet?!” Atsumu said in a gasp.

“Ew. I threw away a rotten plant, don’t accuse me of murder here.” Kiyoomi huffed. “And I don’t want to hear any commentary on the name of our cat again if you continue calling your plants with old English names.”

“Omi, yer an asshole,” he said, chuckling.

“I’ll buy you another one tomorrow, in plastic this time so it doesn’t die two days after.”

Atsumu laughed. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

The hand of his lover in his, his body securely tucked in his arms, Atsumu let himself be gently lulled by Kiyoomi’s breathing against his skin. Tomorrow would be another great day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> If you've reached this far, thank you very much for reading this. This is the first skts fic I publish here, I hope you had some fun reading it!
> 
> Stay safe and have a lovely day, and enjoy SakuAtsu Fluff Week!


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